


Memoir

by assphixiate



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Anal, Angst, Beaten and Bruised, Blow Jobs, Forced Masturbation, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Power Dynamics, Trampling, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assphixiate/pseuds/assphixiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slaine is ashamed of the control he allows Cruhteo to have over his body, but Cruhteo loves humiliating him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memoir

Slaine pulled his access card from his jacket pocket. He swiped it through the card reader in front of the steel door, activating a genial signal of approval. The light on the reader flashed green and the heavy door opened with a mechanical hiss. He quickly stepped through the entryway. Once he was on the other side, he pressed his finger to the keypad, prompting the gate to close and lock once again.

Slaine let out a small sigh as he removed his white gloves and set them down on his besides table. His room was simple, barren. There wasn’t a lot of space but he didn’t possess a lot of items. He made his way over to the bed and sat down, leaning to tug off his boots and set them on the floor. His stiff shoulders relaxed slightly as he shrugged his uniform jacket off, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment and savoring in the silence, the solitude. Then he removed the rest of his clothing and padded over to the bathroom.

This room, too, was small, with a long mirror that wrapped alongside the entirety of the wall. On the other side was a sink and a toilet, which were separated by a half wall of glass from the shower. Slaine stepped toward the sink, staring at the tired expression in the mirror. He reached up and slowly began to peel a bandage from his cheek, revealing a hideous purple bruise underneath. He winced slightly as he ran his finger over the tender skin. It wasn’t a sharp pain, but a dull, familiar ache. Once more, he sighed, though this time it was more a sound of comfort than fatigue. He discarded the bandages in the waste shoot imbedded in the wall and turned to face himself in the full length mirror.

His whole body was covered in bruises, some old and some new. His eyes dropped to focus on the teeth marks which encircled his nipple. He lightly ran his fingertips over them, but averted his eyes uncomfortably from his own gaze. Why did he have to be this way? Why why why.

He swallowed hard as his palms grazed lightly over his chest, his nipples hard from both the chill and his touch. He lowered his eyes and looked at his cock; it was twitching its way to hardness. Slaine squinted and scraped his nails against his hipbones. He bit down his lip, daring to look back up at his own reflection. The bruises, the cuts. His face was flush with embarrassment as he wrapped his fingers tentatively around his cock. It had already become so hard.

Just as Slaine had begun to pump his cock, he heard the distinguishable hiss of the bedroom hatch opening. He instantly froze, his eyes moving across the mirror to peer at the man now standing in the bathroom doorway. It wasn’t the person’s identity that felt unexpected, but he had never been caught touching himself before. He felt like his face was on fire.

“How very indecent,” chided the familiar voice, deep, smooth, but laced with notable distaste. Slaine pivoted his body so he could look over his shoulder at Count Cruhteo, who was slowly closing the short distance between them. His cane clicked across the floor with his footsteps, which echoed off the tiled ceiling.

Slaine hunched his shoulders, trying to hide his embarrassment—and his erection. Cruhteo stepped in front of him, towering over him. Slaine leaned into the mirror but Cruhteo reached out and gripped his shoulder forcibly with a gloved hand. Slaine hissed between clenched teeth as the taller man dug his fingers into his already bruised shoulder and pressed him up against the wall. The Count’s knee shoved its way between Slaine’s legs. He felt like he was helpless prey, pinned by a much larger, much deadlier predator.

“Have you become so carnal, Slaine?” Cruhteo looked down at him, expressionless and proud as ever, as he slid his cane up his thighs. The cold rod pressed into the underside of Slaine’s balls, causing him to tense up immediately. His eyes darted to the floor, to the sink behind Cruhteo, to anywhere but his face.

It wasn’t as if Cruhteo hadn’t visited him in his chambers before. He had a personal access card to Slaine’s room for the sake of those stale evenings in which he didn’t have any meetings or personal business to attend to. Since Slaine spent so much time serving Cruhteo during the day, he had been certain he was going to be too busy or too tired to want to use him tonight.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Slaine uttered softly. “I wasn’t expecting… I didn’t think you’d be coming tonight.”

Something about what he’d said caused Cruhteo’s lip to curl up into a smirk. Slaine wanted nothing more than to recoil. If only he could melt into the mirror behind him and disappear. “Can you not even go a day now without release?” mocked the Count as he traced a finger from the top of his jawline to his chin. Slaine shivered.

He did not respond to the Count’s remarks, but he felt a searing shame in his chest. It was true, wasn’t it? This wasn’t the first time he’d felt the urge to touch himself while he was alone. It wasn’t the first time he’d given into it either, though usually he did it quickly, quietly, and pushed it to the back of his mind immediately.  Not slowly, staring at himself in the mirror, admiring those bruises the Count gave him…

Cruhteo seemed to pick up on his guilt. “I don’t expect much more from your kind,” he sneered. Slaine chewed on his lip. “Perhaps it’s proof that I’ve trained your body well.”

Cruhteo finally removed his cane from its place between his bare legs. He propped himself back up, standing straight and looking down at Slaine. He always stood with such a noble posture, while Slaine slumped remorsefully in front of him like the filthy Terran he was.

“Continue.”

Slaine’s eyes widened and he met Cruhteo’s taunting gaze. He couldn’t possibly mean... “S-Sir?” he stuttered, baffled. He sounded like such a fool.

Cruhteo gave him disapproving expression before reaching down to grasp his still half-hard member. Slaine didn’t make a sound but he quivered slightly, still leaning his back against the mirror for support. “Continue,” the Count repeated. “With this.” He gave his dick a light tug and Slaine didn’t think he could get any redder.

He wanted to protest, but he knew he couldn’t refuse. There was something so debasing about having to touch himself in front of Count Cruhteo; he’d much rather just suck his cock like usual. He accepted the humiliation and let his hands snake down his bare body again, all the while so aware of the Count’s eyes on him.

 His hands shook as he wrapped his fingers around his cock. Slaine timidly began to rub his palm up and down the shaft, coaxing himself to full hardness again. He could feel the Count’s eyes following his every move. Something about the weight of his gaze, while so degrading, was also beginning to feel exciting. Slaine gritted his teeth with frustration; even when he started out hating it, he always wound up aroused in the end. His body truly did belong to Cruhteo now.

Slaine’s breathing became heavy pants as he jerked off. He bit into the back of his free hand to stifle the noise, but Cruhteo reached out to grip his wrist and pull it away.

“I want to hear.”

Slaine whimpered and bucked. The tip of his dick was beginning to leak precum. Now he pushed his hips forward to meet his hand. He felt so hot; sweat trickled down his sternum. His chest heaved. He was so close. So close—

“That’s enough.”

It was excruciating to stop, but as soon as Cruhteo commanded, Slaine obeyed. He peeled his fingers away from his throbbing cock and clasped them together at his chest, his nails digging into the backs of his hands. “Yes… sir…”

“Good boy,” and then Cruhteo smashed his cane against Slaine’s shins. He let out a startled yelp and slumped down the mirror onto his knees, his legs already wobbly and unstable. He ground his teeth together before looking up at Cruhteo from the floor. The moment he made eye contact he felt the Count’s boot pressing down on his crotch, his heel digging into his balls. He let out a cry and curled into a ball, squinting as tears began to prick the corners of his eyes. The pain shot all the way up his groin and into his stomach.

Cruhteo wore a faint smile, seeming to bask in the image of Slaine writhing pathetically on the floor. After what felt like an eternity, he felt the crushing weight leave his testicles, though his arms still gripped his own stomach firmly.

“Punishment for your sins,” the Count scolded. “I can’t have you finishing without attending to me.”

Slaine gulped down the lingering cramps in his lower intestine. He understood the message. He was merely a toy; his own personal pleasure was not important. He furrowed his brows and bit the inside of his cheek as he crawled closer to Cruhteo, nuzzling his face against his thigh and apprehensively looking up at him again. He could feel the Count’s erection against his cheek and carefully moved to unzip his pants, his hands shaking. He moved slowly, carefully, as if asking for permission. Cruhteo’s fingers threading lightly through his hair offered Slaine his silent approval.

“Make sure to get me nice and wet.” Slaine was familiar with that insinuation. He reached his hand inside his unbuttoned trousers and eased Cruhteo’s cock out from his underwear. He had never seen the man fully exposed; he imagined the noble was too proud to let a Terran like Slaine see his naked body. There was always that power dynamic—Slaine bare, Cruhteo clothed; Slaine receiving, Cruhteo giving, whether it was pain or sex. Slaine didn’t have much dignity left, because he knew whatever self-respect he could muster would be met with harsh consequences.

 Slaine lapped his way from base to tip, leaving slick trails of saliva up the length of Cruhteo’s dick. Nice and wet, so it would meet less resistance with Slaine’s dry asshole. He then licked his lips before swallowing the head of the Count’s cock. He slowly took it in inch by inch, his tongue massaging circles along the shaft. Cruhteo wound his fingers more tightly in his hair as Slaine bobbed his head gently. His own cock was beginning to harden again.

“You’ve become such an eager whore.” Cruhteo jerked his head back by the roots. Slaine gasped slightly as the cock was pulled from his throat. Maybe he’d forgotten to breathe. “That’s enough.” He pushed his head away forcefully, causing him to fall back onto his hands.

“Get on your hands and knees. Face the mirror.”

Slaine dropped his gaze shamefully but obeyed. He could see the reflection of the count removing his belt in the mirror and felt himself tense. He winced at the memories the belt gave him, but Cruhteo simply dropped it on the floor. The sound of the buckle hitting the tile was a relief, though he diverted his eyes when the Count dropped his pants.

He felt Cruhteo’s cock press into the small of his back, his larger body enveloping him in warmth. One arm snaked around Slaine’s torso, the Count’s gloved hand caressing his chest. The smooth silk barely grazed his skin, causing him to shiver as a hand ran up and down his body, from his neck to his pelvic bone and back. A finger began to tease his nipple, rubbing gentle circles around the tender flesh, tracing the gashes left by Cruhteo’s teeth a few nights prior.

He stared wide-eyed at the floor until he felt Cruhteo’s free hand entwine into his hair again. He jerked him back with enough force he could feel his neck snap. “Watch,” he commanded, forcing Slaine’s face in the direction of the mirror in front of him. When he saw his expression he just wanted to curl up and hide.

Cruhteo was grinding his wet dick between Slaine’s asscheeks (which, Slaine realized, meant he was rubbing off the saliva that was supposed to be “lubricant”). Slaine’s face bloomed with embarrassment as his cock twitched and his mouth parted in a sigh; he looked so needy, so vulgar. “C-Count…” he whispered as he scraped his nails across the tile floor. He didn’t dare to ask for more.

Cruhteo smirked and ran his tongue up Slaine’s back, following his spine to the nape of his neck. At the same time he pinched his nipple roughly between his fingers, inducing a surprised yelp of pained pleasure. He noticed his cock was secreting precum. He could feel his heart beating in his ears. He impatiently shifted his ass back towards the Count’s lap, hoping he understood, hoping he didn’t anger.

 Cruhteo reached between them to grip his cock and position it against Slaine’s entrance, smearing his precum as he teasingly circled his asshole with the head of his dick. Slaine swallowed a moan and resisted the urge to push back onto the Count’s length.

The precum only provided the slightest of lubrication as Cruhteo forced his way inside, earning a choked groan from Slaine. He’d grown accustomed to the searing pain of a dry dick scraping against his insides; even the precum and the mostly-dry saliva was better than nothing. Cruhteo sheathed himself completely inside of Slaine, slowly, achingly, before suddenly pulling out and slamming back in. He arched his back and let out a scream, which bounced around the bathroom and back into his own ears. It was humiliating.

Soon the pain turned to pleasure, as it always did, and Slaine found himself panting, eyes half-lidded and brimming with lust as he stared himself in the mirror. He looked like such a mess. There was something about watching himself submit, something about the crushing humiliation, that was so arousing. His arms felt so weak beneath him, he could feel his body dipping in an arch toward to the floor.

Before his face could touch the tile, Cruhteo wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back into his lap. Slaine gasped as his cock shifted inside of him with the switch of positions. Now he found himself sitting on Cruhteo’s dick, the other man’s thrusts causing him to bounce up and down. The Count lapped at his neck, suckling and biting and leaving marks just above his clavicle. He used his hands to grip beneath Slaine’s knees and forced his legs apart, displaying the pitiful image clearly in the mirror’s reflection. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. He could see everything—the way his ass greedily swallowed each thrust of Cruhteo’s cock, the way his own dick throbbed shamelessly, yearning to be touched, and that obscene look on his own face.

His ears burned with embarrassment, and when Cruhteo seemed to notice he took to nibbling on the ends of them. “S-Sir,” he stuttered between pants. “C-Can I…” He trailed off, but his hands desperately began to move towards his own cock, which hadn’t been touched since Cruhteo had made him jerk off.  He wrapped his hand around the length. Cruhteo hadn’t stopped him, but instead placed his gloved hand over his. Slaine realized, somewhat bitterly, this was the closest Cruhteo had ever come to giving him a handjob. The Count forced his hand to pump slowly up and down the length, controlling his pace and his movements. Slaine rocked his hips back and forth, up towards their hands and back into Cruhteo’s lap. Repetitively, rhythmically.

He could tell Cruhteo was getting close by the way his thrusting became more erratic. Slaine could feel his own orgasm building, his skin tingling from the base of his neck all the way to his curled toes. Cruhteo seem to ram his way inside him as deeply as he could, biting down on his shoulder as he filled him with hot cum. It only took a few more quick pumps of their hands before Slaine also came, letting out a breathy cry and soaking both their hands in sticky cum. Cruhteo’s fingers closed firmly around Slaine’s balls, urging every drop out of body. It dripped between their fingers and down his open thighs.

Slaine slumped forward, his whole body going limp. Cruhteo lifted him by the underarms before letting his boneless body slide onto the chill floor. He lay there, trying desperately to catch his breath.

The Count removed his filthy glove and discarded it on the floor next to him. He stood up, turning away to pull his trousers back on and refasten his belt around his waise. Cruhteo straightened his clothes and regained a more dignified posture. “Clean yourself up, Terran,” he remarked with disdain. That was the last thing he said before he left the room.

Slaine wobbled to his feet and looked at the disgusting mess staring back at him in the mirror with contempt. What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Why why why.

Just then he heard the front door click. “I’m home.” A casual greeting. A familiar hello. It was Inaho’s voice.

Slaine remained silent. He curled up in front of the bathroom sink, staring at his cum-stained hand, before wrapping his arms protectively around himself.

He choked back the tears.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly just wanted an excuse to write Slaine getting fucked in front of a mirror, idk.  
> Somehow it got a little angsty.


End file.
